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* Oversigt over familierne Nødgaard og Frederiksen.*

Updated January 3, 2010


The purpose with this home page, is to pass on genealogic information about my ancestors.
This information will be passed on to the members of my family, just like I have received information, both written and oral from my parents and grandparents as well as from other family members.

In the Danish Folk High School, based on the ideas of the Danish philosopher N.F.S. Grundtvig (1783-1872), a poem, stressing the importance of the family and history, always keeps coming back to my mind:

Jeppe Aakjær: Historiens sang (1916)

Som dybest brønd gir altid klarest vand,
og lifligst drik fra dunkle væld udrinder,
så styrkes slægtens arv hos barn og mand
ved folkets arv af dybe, stærke minder.
Din egen dag er kort, men slægtens lang;
læg øret ydmygt til den rod forneden;
årtusind toner op i gråd og sang,
mens toppen suser imod evigheden!

The deepest well basically always gives clearest water,
delicious drink from the deepest spring is flowing,
thus boosting heritage of child and man
by the people's legacy of deep, strong memories.
Your own day is short but long is the race;
humble place your ear to the roots below;
Millennium years crying and singing,
while the leaves are rustling against eternity

Vi søger slægtens spor i stort og småt,
i flintøksen efter harvens tænder,
i mosefundets smykke, plumpt og råt,
i kirkens kvadre, lagt af brede hænder.
Hvert skimlet skrift, hver skjoldet alterbog
har gemt et gran af slægtens ve og våde;
nu skal de røbe dig, hvad vej jeg drog,
og løfte mig en flig af livets gåde.

We are looking for race’s tracks in large and small,
in flint axes after harrows teeth
in bog findings jewelry, coarse and raw,
in the granite squares at church, made by broad hands.
Each mouldy writing, each blotched service book
have saved a grain of races welfare and sorrow
Now they must reveal for you which way I went,
and promise me to unveil mystery of life.

Endnu en stund, så drær den danske rug,
mens lærken trilrer og grågøge kukke.
Du pusling-land, som hygger dig i smug,
mens hele verden brænder om din vugge,
mod dig vort håb og mandomsdrømmen går,
når landsbyklokken signer dine strande,
når aftenrøden højt i skyen står
og sænker fredens korstegn på din pande.

Once again, the Danish rye is flowering
while lark warble and cuckoo is calling
You tiny tot country cosiness’ in the stealth,
while the whole world is burning around your cradle,
towards you our hopes and expectations are linked
while the church bell is blessing your beaches,
when sunset high in the cloud is
and lowers the sign of peace onto your forehead.


Lad mig kun flagre hen som blad i høst,
når du, mit land, min stamme, frit må leve,
og skønne sange på den danske røst
må frie, stærke sjæle gennembæve.
Da står en ny tids bonde på sin toft
og lytter ud mod andre lærkesange,
men himlen maler blåt sit sommerloft
og rugen gulnes tæt om vig og vange.

Let me just flit around like a harvest leaf
when you, my country, my tribe, free can live,
and beautiful songs in the Danish voice
can shiver free, strong independent souls
Then a new era farmer is standing at his paddock
and listens out for other birds to sing
while the sky is painting blue her summer ceiling
and the rye yellows close to coves and fields.

This poem by Jeppe Aakjær was December 2008 translated by some of my students at North Jutland Ag. College.



I hope, some day, it will be possible to have this beautifull poem translated into English.
Anybody, who wants

***

Frederik Bødker Frederiksen

Falsgaard
Lille Dallvej 50, Dall
Svenstrup, 9230
Denmark
frederik@frederiksen.mail.dk


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